


No One's Injury-Prone Like Clay

by OllieCollie



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Banter, Brothers, Clay really needs to stop getting himself into these situations, Disney References, Gen, Memory Loss, SEAL Team (TV) Week 2021, Team as Family, Whump, concussion, quite a lot of banter, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllieCollie/pseuds/OllieCollie
Summary: During an op in Afghanistan, Clay takes a tumble down a mountainside, the repercussions of which are completely unexpected.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 89





	No One's Injury-Prone Like Clay

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the idea for this fic bouncing around in my head for nearly a year now, and SEAL Team Week has finally prompted me to actually finish and post it. 
> 
> Medical disclaimer: I'm no doctor. I'm just following writing prompts, okay? And amnesia is a weird thing. So just go with it.
> 
> Other standard disclaimers apply.

The first thing to assault him as he made the gradual return from unconscious to conscious was the unforgiving pounding in his head. The rest of his senses followed suit, bringing him fully into a painful, unfamiliar reality. Fear spiked in his chest, and for what reason, he couldn't exactly determine. A single thought pulsed on repeat in his mind: _Get out._

Had he been any more aware, he would have stopped to question _where_ he was and the pressing need he felt to _run_ , but his throbbing head didn't allow for any critical thinking at the moment. He just knew he needed to move.

He took a deep, shuddering breath before forcing his eyes open. Dim light surrounded by fog greeted him, indicating that it was either dawn or dusk. He wasn't sure which and he didn't exactly have the capacity to care. The ground beneath him was hard, cold, and slightly damp as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

The world around him spun, and he clenched his teeth, fighting to keep whatever he'd last eaten down in his stomach where it belonged. A few moments and deep breaths later, the nausea passed and he was left with only a more violent headache. His fingers wandered across his face, brushing at a warm wetness that dribbled from somewhere on his head. His hand came back smeared with blood. _Not good._

The rest of his body was sore, the tightness in his chest decidedly the result of a few cracked ribs and his left wrist twisted—or worse. However, before he had a chance to attempt standing, a quiet rustle nearby grabbed his attention. Unbidden panic welled up in him again at the noise. He swung around, searching for the source through the thick fog hanging in the air. A split second later, a creature appeared in his line of vision. A dog.

Instinct had him scrambling away from the mutt, desperate to avoid becoming its next meal. The dog, however, trotted right up to him, wagging its tail and letting out a quiet yet excited bark. 

Some part of his fear waned at the animal's friendliness. His fingers slid through the dog's short fur as it nuzzled up against him, his gaze catching curiously on the vest it wore. It was so familiar…

"Clay!" 

The shout caught him off guard. He sprang to his feet, barely managing to stay upright when a wave of pain and dizziness that washed over him at the sudden movement. The dog barked again and ran toward the voice.

His heart pounded as he searched for a place to hide, but there wasn't much more than rock and dirt in close range—plus a few skinny trees and plants. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to run given the mother of all headaches he was currently experiencing.

"Clay!" the voice called again, closer this time. Two men—armed—were upon him before he had a chance to blink. 

He reacted, throwing his fists in the direction of the strangers before retreating, his boots scrabbling on loose rock.

"Woah, hey!" The bearded man stepped closer and ducked to avoid a swinging fist. "Clay, it's us!"

He froze.

*~*~*~*

Sonny watched, bewildered, as Spenser stared blankly back at him and Brock. The reaction had not been at all what he was expecting.

Bravo was currently deep in the rocky, mountainous yonder of Afghanistan, making the trek to exfil after completing their mission of taking out their latest target, the ringleader of an up-and-coming terrorist group hiding away in a small, virtually unknown village. Their swoop-in-and-take-out-silently strategy hadn't gone quite according to plan, and a firefight had broken out that caused the members of Bravo to split up into smaller groups. 

Despite the slight chaos, everything had been going fine on Sonny, Brock, Cerb, and Clay's end—until the fog grew even heavier, creating an additional challenge as the team attempted to navigate their way out of the region. Clay was busy adjusting his NODs and exchanging insults with the others when the ground decided to give out under his feet, sending the man tumbling down a steep, rocky slope. Sonny’s heart had just about jumped into his throat when their youngest brother had disappeared over the edge of the cliff.

And now, here they were after taking the long way down to retrieve Bravo Six, watching blood run down the side of his dirt-smeared face as he blinked back at them like they were three-eyed aliens who'd just stepped off a UFO. 

Sonny tried for humor. "Couldn't keep your balance on those wobbly legs, could y', Bambi?"

When the teasing tone and words didn't elicit any sort of response from Clay, worry began to crawl up Sonny's spine. "Spenser, you all right?" he asked, already knowing the answer to that question was probably _not_.

Clay blinked again, clutching his left arm close to his chest. The raw fear and uncertainty in his eyes was an unfamiliar sight. The blond princess was always so sure of himself—one might even say cocky—a little big for his britches at times. That I-know-what-I'm-doing gleam was missing, and Sonny didn't like the look of it. What was even more disconcerting was the lack of recognition in his best friend's eyes. It was as if Clay had no idea who they were. He took another step toward the kid.

Panic sparked in Clay's eyes at the movement, and Brock threw up a hand, keeping Sonny from moving closer to their injured brother. "Head injury," Bravo Five muttered quietly to the Texan. "He's out of it."

Sonny nodded. _Duh._ Concussions were no fun, and they certainly had the ability to create confusion and fuzziness in one's head, even more than Clay had on a regular basis—Sonny snorted inwardly at the thought. However, from the looks of it, this was no ordinary concussion.

Sonny knew they didn't have time to stand around in case they were being pursued by any of the remaining rebel group members. With this fog, ISR would have tremendous difficulty alerting Bravo to any lurking danger. The only upside to the inclement weather was that the enemy would be dealing with the same challenge. Bravo Three brushed Brock's arm away and took another cautious step toward Clay. "Hey, buddy, it's just us. You knocked your noggin good, huh?"

Clay squinted as if in pain, regarding Sonny warily. "I—I don't…should I know you?"

Sonny barked out a surprised laugh. He opened his mouth to make a snarky comment but was brought up short when Clay continued to stare back at him in confusion, the look on his face not dissimilar to a child who'd just woken up from a nap. The reality of the kid's words finally settled in, and Sonny cursed, shooting a look in Brock's direction. "You serious?" 

Brock interrupted, which was probably for the best considering Sonny's inability to hide his sheer dumbfoundedness at the situation unfolding in front of them. "Hey.” He caught Clay’s attention. “Do you know where you are?"

Clay blinked. Shook his head slowly.

"What's my name?" They received a blank look in response. 

Sonny glanced around nervously, knowing they were not in immediate danger but also recognizing they needed to move before any threatened. They'd been standing in the same place for too long.

Next to Brock, Cerb let out a quiet whine. Bravo Five shushed him gently before continuing his line of questioning. "What about your name?"

"Cl—Clay, I guess," the blond SEAL responded, brow furrowing, most likely recalling their earlier shouts when they'd first found him. Sonny inhaled sharply. This was the exact definition of _not good_.

A voice crackled over the comms. _"Three and Five, sitrep."_ Jason. _"Have you located Bravo Six?"_

Sonny cleared his throat, still reeling from the realization that Clay truly had no clue who they were—or who _he_ was, for that matter. This kind of crazy memory loss stuff only happened in the movies, right? Surely…

_"Bravo Three, sitrep!"_ The sharp command jerked Sonny back to reality.

The Texan keyed his comms. "Uh yeah, Bravo Three here. We kinda have a…um, situation."

Irritation laced Jason's voice as he responded. _"What kind of situation?"_

"We've got Clay. He's injured. Responsive and mobile, but…" Sonny trailed off, gaze sliding to Clay, who was still eyeing them uncertainly. At least he didn't look like he was planning to bolt anymore.

_"But what?"_

It was Brock who answered this time. "He has no idea who we are."

Trent's response to the shocking revelation was immediate and sharp. _"He_ what _?"_

"He's concussed and more confused than a fish out of water. Has no idea who we are or where he is," Sonny quickly explained, keeping one eye on their boy in case he decided it would be a good idea to squirt.

_"Look, you boys gotta move,"_ Jason interrupted before Trent could start interrogating Sonny about Clay's condition. His voice was calm, not lacking concern, but prioritizing the safety of the team. _"We'll figure it out, just get Six and get to the rendezvous point."_

"Copy that, Bravo One," Sonny responded, still trying to fully process the situation but knowing they needed to go. It felt like they'd been standing here for an hour, but in reality it had been only a few minutes, max. Still, with a chance there were a few straggling pursuers, Bravo couldn't afford to stand around and figure it out.

"Clay," Sonny addressed his teammate, taking a mental note of the fact that the fog was clearing out as the sky continued to brighten, providing them with a better visual but simultaneously leaving them more exposed. He edged closer to Clay.

The kid's head snapped up at the name—which was good? Sonny hoped, anyway. "We need to go. I know you ain't too sure what's going on, but I need you to trust me on this. Okay?" He felt like he was talking to a little kid. Clay sure looked the part, with his unruly curls and sad, puppy-dog eyes. 

Distrust lingered in Clay's expression. He hesitated.

"Come on, look. We're on the same team." Sonny pointed out their identical uniforms. “And Cerberus there sure knows who you are.” The dog’s tail thumped against the ground at the mention of his name. Sonny glanced back up at Clay and frowned. Was the kid a shade paler than he’d been a minute ago?

Just as Clay opened his mouth, maybe to respond, gunfire erupted. He bolted.

Sonny cursed as he ducked to avoid the spray of bullets, darting after Clay. “Well, you had your chance,” he muttered halfway under his breath as he lunged forward, effectively tackling the kid. Both men grunted as they hit the ground and rolled. _Sorry, little buddy._

“Come on, we’ve gotta move!” Brock’s normally reserved demeanor vanished as he shouted at Sonny, attention never wavering as he returned fire in the direction of the enemy.

Sonny grunted his acknowledgement of Five’s words, fingers curling around Clay’s arm as he practically dragged the bewildered and injured Bravo Six along with him, using his free hand to unleash his own gunfire on their pursuers. 

Approximately five seconds later, they’d taken out the three advancing tangos, rendering the area silent. For now. There was no telling how many more angry rebel group members were also hot on their heels.

Sonny took a deep breath and relayed their status to the others, his grip on Clay still firm. The kid’s eyes were wide as a wild stallion, blood and dirt smearing his face. It was nothing short of baffling that he’d actually suffered a head injury resulting in amnesia so severe he couldn’t even remember his own name.

Brock shouted something, and Sonny quickly compartmentalized, shoving the worry and spiraling thoughts to a back corner of his mind to be entertained at some point in the future. He managed a quick reassurance to Clay, something along the lines of, “It’s gonna be okay.” 

For his part, Clay followed with no resistance. He seemed dazed, and who could blame the kid? He was probably—definitely—concussed and currently had no memory of...well, anything.

The three men, plus Cerberus, scrambled in the direction of their exfil point, mercifully arriving with no additional enemy contact. Together, Brock and Sonny managed to wrangle Clay up into the helo. He tumbled right into Trent’s waiting arms.

“Okay, okay, Clay, _listen_ to me.” Trent was trying to be heard over the whir of the giant bird’s blades as it lifted off.

Clay, however, had seemed to recover from his former state of okay-I’ll-let-you-drag-me-wherever and was doing exactly the opposite of what Trent said; tugging away from the many hands that reached out to steady him, shrinking away from the many pairs of curious and concerned eyes. It was clear that the whole situation was too much for his current state of mind. A wild fist caught Trent in the jaw.

“ _Clay!_ ”

The firm shout startled the kid into submission. He froze, blinking as his gaze met Trent’s. A moment passed before the kid’s eyes rolled up into his head and his body went limp.

Silence encompassed the interior of the helo for ten whole seconds.

“All right,” Sonny muttered to nobody in particular, “someone wanna tell me what in the hell that was?”

*~*~*~*

"There he is." The sing-song note to the deep voice filtered through Clay's groggy mind as his eyelids fluttered, the blurry figures around him slowly coming into focus. The ache in his head promptly made itself known. He connected the voice to the face—Jason.

"Clay?" Trent pounced, his worried face appearing above the younger man's line of sight. The soft hum of a plane's engine felt intensified to Clay's overly-sensitive senses, competing for his full attention over Trent's voice. The medic cautiously placed a steadying hand on Clay's chest. "You with us?"

Clay scrunched up his nose, recognizing the slightly-familiar padding of a stretcher underneath him. He attempted to focus, pushing past the dull throb in his head. "T—Trent?"

The other man let out a breath of relief. "Thank God," he muttered, hands moving to probe at something on Clay's head. A moment passed in silent examination before Trent spoke again. "What's your name?"

Clay moaned. "Not in the mood to play Twenty Questions," he mumbled. He was still working to clear the fogginess surrounding his every thought.

Trent's eyes narrowed.

_Whoops._ He let out a small huff. "My name's Clay Spenser. I live in Virginia Beach, and we're in" —he had to think about it for a moment— "Afghanistan?" His eyes roamed over the others gathered nearby, brain working overtime to figure out _what_ exactly had happened. 

"Were," Trent corrected. "Headed back stateside now." He gently turned Clay's head to the side to continue his examination.

The first thing to greet Clay from this new angle was Sonny's intense gaze. The Texan sat in one of the seats lining the edge of the C-17 next to Full Metal and Brock—and Cerb—hands clasped together as he leaned slightly forward, wearing an expression Clay couldn't quite place. Clay scowled, regretting the movement when it caused another stab of pain. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Sonny snorted. "Now _there's_ the Clay Spenser we've all come to know and love."

From his position near the bottom end of the stretcher, Jason rolled his eyes, but the relieved looks that were currently being shared between all the guys indicated that _something_ had gone down on this most recent mission. 

Trent spoke up again, still in full-out medic mode, assessing. "Do you remember the op?"

Clay's head began to spin even as the topic was brought up. Trying to process everything that was currently happening was taking up all of his brain power. When he pressed the rewind button, he was greeted with a blank tape. Scratch that, it was more of an indescribable, fuzzy sort of confusion. He couldn't quite grasp the memories…

"Goldilocks, don't overload that pea-sized brain of yours. I can practically see the smoke." Sonny's voice interrupted Clay's train of thought. Not that it mattered much, because that train was headed straight into an empty abyss.

Clay shook his head slowly. "I—I don't…I can't—" He growled in frustration.

"Hey, it's okay," Trent jumped in. "Minimal memory loss isn't uncommon with head injuries."

Sonny's eyebrows shot up, and he opened his mouth as if to speak. A glare from Trent had him snapping his jaw shut. 

Clay frowned at his brothers' silent exchange, but didn't have the energy to voice his puzzlement about it. He decided to let it go.

Trent, apparently satisfied with Clay's current status, quit prodding, much to the injured man's relief. He turned to put up the penlight he'd been using. "Okay, well, you're still in one piece, at least. As soon as we land, you're getting checked out." 

"I feel fine," Clay immediately protested, not looking forward to being stuck in a hospital bed all night. He just wanted to go home—to his _own_ bed. "Just a headache." Albeit one of the worst he'd ever experienced, coupled with a sharp pain in his side that made it difficult to draw a deep breath and a throbbing ache in his left wrist. Minor details.

If Trent didn't have whiplash from the one-eighty he did at those words, Clay would be surprised. _Oops,_ he thought as Bravo Four stared him down for the second time in the past five minutes.

"Hey, Spenser, do me a favor." Jason smoothly intervened, cutting off what had been shaping up to be a vicious dressing down from the overprotective team medic. "Next time you decide to take a shortcut down the mountainside, run it by the team first."

Clay's eyebrows rose. "I—what?"

Ray materialized next to Jason, a slightly more serious expression on his face as he added his own two cents. "You know, from what I hear, Spenser, you're lucky to be alive."

"Scared the hell out of us," Brock commented, his gaze on Cerb as he continued to scratch behind the dog's ears.

"Um…sorry?" Clay struggled to recall _anything_ related to what the guys were discussing. He let his eyes drift closed, assuming it was okay when Trent didn't immediately poke him or tell him to _stay awake_. 

"Always gotta complicate things, don't you, Clay?" Sonny was rolling his eyes. 

Full Metal grunted. "Yeah, you're one to talk," he muttered.

"Now listen here, Metal. Not a thing a world is more simple than this Texas boy right here," Sonny quickly defended, thumping a hand over his chest. "This should've been a milk run. Go in, bag the bad guy, get out. But no, nothing can ever be that simple for Gaston here."

Even with his eyes closed, Clay could practically feel his friend's gaze drilling into him.

"Sonny, you do know Gaston was a villain, right?" Ray chimed in.

Sonny grunted. "You would know that. Still doesn't take away from my point."

"Yeah, but don't they sing a song about him and how great he is?"

"Oh, right." The realization could be heard in the Texan's slow drawl. "Well, in that case, I take back what I said. Or actually—how about this? 'No one's injury-prone like Clay, no one's hard-headed like Clay,'" he sang loudly, voice off-key at best.

There were groans and the sound of objects being thrown. Voices began to mingle together into one, and as the guys began to debate the best and worst Disney antagonists, Clay drifted off to sleep.

*~*~*~*

A series of beeps preceded the opening of the door to the cages, and a blond head poked through. Its appearance elicited a round of cheers from the rest of Bravo Team. 

"Well, look who's back!" Sonny's grin faltered as he watched Clay enter the room. His eyebrows drew together at the quizzical look on his best friend's face. "You good, buddy?"

Clay stared at him. "Do I…who are you?"

Sonny blinked back. A heartbeat passed before understanding dawned in his eyes. "Very funny, Blondie."

Clay's frown morphed into a grin as the rest of the guys erupted into uncontrollable laughter. He shuffled further into the room, eagerly leaning over to greet a just-as-eager Cerberus.

"Okay, okay!" Sonny raised his voice to be heard above the hoots and hollers. "Maybe I should've left you on that mountainside." Everyone ignored the comment. 

Jason stepped forward and clapped Clay on the shoulder. "Man, you saw the look on his face?" He gestured toward Sonny. "You should've kept it going."

"He would've fallen for it," Full Metal added, a small grin ghosting over his normally stoic expression.

Ray closed the door to his cage and turned to face the others. "Nah, now that would've been too much for the poor man to handle. Probably would've collapsed from the shock." He made his way closer to the group.

"Ha, ha, ha. Yeah, laugh it up, fellas." Sonny shook a finger at Clay. "Just remember that I was the one who dragged your rattled noggin out of there."

With a dramatic sigh, Clay clapped a hand over his chest. "And I am forever in your debt, Mr. Quinn." 

A roll of his eyes was the only indication that Sonny had heard the comment. “Can I just say, I thought for sure you were gonna go full-out _Karate Kid_ on Trent once we made it to the helo.” He swung his arm downward dramatically, shooting a grin in the medic’s direction.

“Okay, Sonny, that was more ‘Fruit Ninja’ than anything,” Clay joked, cheeks still reddening slightly at the reminder of his wild adventure in Afghanistan. Once Bravo had returned to the States and it was determined by the doctor that Clay would be okay, the team had had _way_ too much fun retelling the story of _Clay Spenser and the Lost Memory._ Trent sported a nice shiner on the jaw as a result of the swift struggle that had taken place during exfil.

When the teasing and laughter finally ceased, or at least calmed to a more controllable level, Jason got down to business. "So, what'd the doc say?"

Clay shrugged, reaching to scratch Cerb behind the ears when the dog nosed his hand. "Confirmed what they'd guessed before; there's no permanent damage."

"Uh-huh." Jason casually leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "And the amnesia?"

Another shrug as Clay answered. "He said the brain is a funny thing. It's—"

"Especially yours," Sonny interjected.

"—just one of those things that can't be explained," Clay continued, effectively ignoring his friend's jab. “Besides not remembering anything right before or during the mission—which is normal—I’m fine.”

"And everything else?" Trent asked, eyeing Bravo Six with a scrutinizing gaze. 

Clay's hand wandered to his side, pressing gently against the still-tender ribs. "Ribs look good. Ought to heal up in the next couple weeks. Same with the wrist."

"Okay, so a little banged up but no worse for the wear." Jason nodded, satisfied. "Just another day with Clay Spenser."

A couple of snorts and nods of agreement followed the master chief's statement.

Never one to let silence last long enough to become awkward, Sonny piped up, "Well, to celebrate the fact that young Spenser here did not end up vulture food on the side of that mountain and is more or less intact, I suggest we hit the bar tonight for a couple of well-deserved beers."

"Sonny, you will use anything as an excuse to go drinking." Clay grinned. "I'm in."

The big Texan poked a finger in the younger man’s direction. “I’ll have you know that no excuse is needed to spend an enjoyable evening with my brothers and a few drinks.” 

Snorts greeted the response, and Brock muttered, “A few?”

Sonny waved off the others and turned back to Clay. “I’ll see you tonight. Just don’t _forget._ ” He grinned and ducked when Cerberus’s toy Kong was hurled in his direction.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment if you get a chance and have a wonderful week! I'm looking forward to reading the other fics from SEAL Team Week 2021.


End file.
